


Glory & Gore

by kormanine



Category: Brave (2012), How to Train Your Dragon (Movies), Rise of the Guardians (2012), Tangled (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:35:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24759445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kormanine/pseuds/kormanine
Summary: After the death of a recent close friend, Hiccup and Merida struggle to collect themselves as the broken world they live in begins to change dramatically.
Kudos: 2





	1. a recent loss

"Holy  _ shit _ ," Hiccup sighs as he looks down at a large body of walkers trudging beneath him and Merida. It's like watching white mould overtake food—it was just a large pale mass of grey skin and white, discoloured hair, making their way through the forest one broken step at a time. The trees are particularly dense in this area of the forest, and the treehouse they occupy is pretty high up, so Hiccup can't quite make out how large the crowd is. It has to be over a hundred of them that have passed by, and they just keep coming . . .

"A whole herd of them coming out from the East, from  _ Corona _ ," Merida elaborates. "All those walkers are clearing out the city. What could that be about?"

"Who knows?" He leans his hands against the balcony, feeling tired. The raspy, throaty sounds of the undead were unpleasant against his ears, especially when there were this many of them. "These guys can't just be chasing a rabbit or something, unless we somehow missed a stupidly giant bunny hopping through here."

Merida finds it in herself to giggle childishly at the thought of a giant bunny overlooking the trees. It's both cute and terrifying, but it would definitely be an experience cooking that thing. A creature that size could last a  _ lifetime _ . "Speaking of bunnies, Aster and them are probably still out there, don't you think?"

Hiccup looks back at her, rubbing his eyes. "You think so?"

Merida pauses, because it bothers her that he asked that; it bothers her that he most likely thinks otherwise. "I can bloody well  _ hope _ so. They were ten times smarter than us, they must've figured out some way to . . . make it work out there." It's not like she's being naive about it. Aster, Tooth, Sandy, North—they were the ones that taught them everything they know. Sure, Corona had been absolutely infested with walkers, but . . . they were good at surviving.

Hiccup doesn't know what to say to that. Why would they stay in the city? If he and Merida never quite had the best luck living out in the forest, it would be effortless for them to survive out here. To add to it, if they had been here, with them, guiding them, maybe Jack would've—

He suddenly doesn't want to think about it, because his thought process seems to be leading him to  _ blame _ them for . . .

He changes the topic. "When the herd's farther West, try clearing out a path for us so we can get to the road safely."

Merida nods silently to the task she's given. She recklessly leans forward on the balcony, her feet kicking up behind her as she tries to make out the back of the crowd. Nope, they're still coming. Like an ugly crowd of tortoises trying to chase a hare. "When're we going?"

"Tomorrow. I don't think we should stay for much longer."

With that, he turns to go back inside—to climb back into one of the many little huts, connected by little ladders and steps, that make up their large-scale treehouse.

But, Merida quickly stops him: "Hey."

He turns to see her, leaning himself against the doorframe because he's tired. When she doesn't continue, he gets confused. "Hey?"

She crosses her arms, her expression a bit unreadable. "What's your plans for today?" she asks conversationally.

Hiccup moves his hand around indecisively, not sure what to make of her airy tone. "Uh, pack? Not sure how much we could take, though, with only the two of us—"

" _ How about you _ ," Merida interrupts loudly, clicking her tongue in thought, ". . . help me dismantle some of the traps. You take the North, I'll take the South. We can't let all that material go to waste."

His shoulders rise up. "Yeah, but . . . if we're going to the city, I'm sure we'll find  _ way _ more supplies—"

" _ Hiccup _ ." Her tone changes, lowering. She sighs. "You don't have to act like I don't know what you're going through, because I know  _ exactly _ what you're going through."

Hiccup is hiding his face in his hands now, sighing.

Comforting people isn't exactly part of Merida's skillset—she's never needed to be in the position to do so. In fact, some would argue she's better equipped to stress people out rather than  _ ease _ their stress. (Had Jack been the most comforting out of the three of them?)

_ I lost him, too _ , she wants to say, but decides against it. She wants to push him to move on, not dwell on it.

"Go  _ outside _ , do some hunting. Take a bath in the river—do  _ something _ , Hiccup, instead of staying cooped up in this goddamn treehouse!"

"Look, until the herd passes, we're not going anywhere," Hiccup says, his hands dropping down to his sides. Merida rolls her eyes, poorly suppressing a groan. "I'll figure out how much weight the two of us could handle. Heck, I could try building a cart or something, but that'll take me some . . .  _ time _ . . ."

"And when the herd  _ passes _ —"

" _ Yes _ , alright, I'll—go outside," Hiccup says. But then, under his breath, he adds, "Tomorrow, when we leave."

She's stunned in disbelief at his attitude, before yelling at him, "To- _ day _ !"

"Today! Fine!" he yells back, clearly unenthusiastic about it, but still giving in. "I'll go outside  _ today _ ! God . . ." He goes to climb up into his room, retreating.

Closing her eyes, Merida sighs, tossing her head back slightly. Harris, Hubert, and Hamish as a collective were never this much work, or at least, they never drained her emotionally like this. Maybe this is what her mother felt like, all the time . . .

She reaches to climb up to the roof of the main hut, then even higher to the tower they built extending against the main trunk of the tree. Once she's seated herself on a conveniently high branch, she could feel the wind that brushed through the tops of the trees, and see way beyond the forest.

There were  _ hundreds _ of walkers.

The land beneath Corona sank lower than the forest, but the city's skyscrapers could still be seen, hovering the horizon. She could make out little houses along the outskirts, beautiful from afar, but up close she could only imagine what it was like.

That's where all the walkers were coming from—the neighbourhoods and buildings and city streets. What could be leading them, now that's the question. This isn't a normal herd. They had to have been  _ driven out _ somehow.

. . . She'll need to do a major hunt for her arrows. They should be everywhere, stuck in the trees and whatnot. Hopefully they don't get destroyed with all the walkers. Should she bother dismantling their traps? Hiccup did have a point—they were headed for a goddamn city, there's bound to be more supplies there than they ever had. What did they need to even pack? Clothes, food, water,  _ weapons _ , a map . . . mementos?

He's always been the more materialistic one. Not in the negative sense. He just has things like his notebook, his tools, little trinkets . . . he's the crafty one, who's constantly in his room, building things.

However, she has a feeling he hasn't been cooped up in his room because he's caught up in his craft . . .

She can't blame him for being so closed off this past week. He'd been close with Jack. Sometimes, she wonders if she even had a grasp on how strong their relationship was. She always got caught up in bickering with Jack, or fighting with Hiccup, so she never quite noticed how they were hardly ever at conflict with one another.  _ Boys _ , Merida thinks. Always trying to keep her out of the loop; stuck in their own little world . . .

. . . Merida is up there with her thoughts for a couple hours, carving little symbols into the wood of her bow, thinking. She's up there until the herd is gone, all the walkers continuing West, and she rushes her way down to tell Hiccup she'll be back soon. She's got a lot to do, and she can't quite depend on Hiccup to get anything done while she's gone.

But, it's fine. He's carried this team before. She doesn't mind doing the same for now.


	2. a new friend

A long, distant cry from Rapunzel's mind screams as her body to move, to wake up, do  _ something _ —but the taste of hazelnuts on her tongue distracts her, reminding her of home, where she's safe and kept away from the dangerous world. Her mother's voice interrupts her thoughts, chastising her about those  _ things _ out there . . .

Her neck aches from her head hanging low, and her back is against something uncomfortable. A grunt of discomfort is muffled by something covering her mouth . . .

"—up. Wake up, already.” Someone's cupping her face between two fingers, before patting the side of her head. As this someone seems to leave, her head lolls to the side, and she blinks softly, eyes opening. Strands of long blonde hair obscure her vision, but as her eyes adjust, she sees her own hand in an awkward position, with something circling her wrist.

It's a handcuff.

She pulls, confused, rattling the chain. It's got her attached to the side mirror of a car—she continues trying to tug against it. Each tug is more desperate than the last, her breathing becoming spastic as she realizes she's chained to a car, and she should be at  _ home _ , where it's  _ safe _ —

Rapunzel freezes at the sound of a click. One of the men—the red headed, dark-eyed one—is holding a gun. Whatever words that want to leave her mouth only translate to frightened, muffled whines. She shakes her head in a plea, pulling at her chains again as she shrinks back against the car.

The redheaded man points the gun to the sky, and a single shot rings into the night with a spark and a weighted  _ crack _ .

Rapunzel jumps at the sound. It’s been a long time since she’s heard the sound of a gunshot, and it’s never been quite this close to her. She’s heard it from her window, high up on the tenth floor of their apartment building. The sound is always weakened once it reaches her, but it still makes her heart drop. She remembers gunshots sounding out in the hallways, floors below her, muffled by walls. She’d run to hide under the kitchen table, as instructed by her mother. She’d hug her favourite stuffed animal—a chameleon named Pascal—and wait it out until her mother retrieved her.

The other man—freakishly tall and lanky—looks like he’s about to say something, but his comrade cuts him off, telling him to, "Wait.”

(Something about remembering those moments back at her apartment, hearing distant gunshots, remembering how scared she felt, gives way to a burning sensation in her chest. She can't just wait it out. Not this time. The men were right here in front of her, armed, with intentions she knows are some level of vile. She had to fight.)

Finally, Rapunzel stands, tugging at the handcuffs. The glass cracks beneath her heel, cutting her skin, and she leaves red where the mirror meets the body of the car. She kicks at the top rim of the thing, and eventually it begins to bend back slightly, each kick doing something—

She falls, and she screams into his gag when she feels a monster sinking its teeth into her leg. Her body is paralyzed from the pain, feeling the flat, human teeth biting and pulling and ripping away at the skin, digging  _ past _ skin. Another gunshot sounds and the walker’s head explodes in front of her, laying still in pieces beside her.

An overwhelming and simultaneously numb sensation engulfs her leg. She can feel the warmth of fresh blood running down her skin, as well as the tears running down her face.

The men talk: "Now, how do you know she won’t be eaten to death by sunrise?”

"Simple.”

The redheaded man bends down to look her in the eye, telling her, "Don’t move.” He then proceeds to lift the remains of the thing and lay them on top of her. "There,” he calls back to his partner in crime. "Walkers won't even know she's there.  _ Camouflage _ .”

Beneath the decaying humanoid body, Rapunzel can hear the other man kiss his teeth. God, the  _ smell _ —she has to keep breathing, because her heart is doing stupid things and her head is beginning to feel light, but every breath allows that god awful smell to invade her lungs. Every breath she wants to hold onto, is seeping death into her system.

Rapunzel doesn’t quite process when it happens, but just as the red headed man makes to stand, something is suddenly lodged into his head. His body drops to the ground, suddenly lifeless, an arrow sticking out of his head.

She pauses, kicking the dead thing off her with her good leg, her mind filling up with empty thoughts as nothing quite processes. She turns to watch the other man react to his fallen comrade, taking out his own gun and walking towards Rapunzel, almost defensively. Curses stream from under his breath, a tamed panic as he points his gun in several directions to the trees, his back to Rapunzel. "Whoever’s out there, fucking show yourself,” he threatens, anxiety boiling beneath his voice.

Unbeknownst to both of them, a girl is crouched on top of the car. A moment later, she pounces onto the guy, an arm looping around his neck in a chokehold while the other grabs at his gun. Her nails dig into his hand, and the gun drops into the grass. The man tries pulling at the stranger’s bright red curls. She groans in pain, but she keeps her arm locked around his neck, her other hand pressing against the back of his head, her legs locked around his midriff. That is, until he tries backpedalling to slam her against the car, but the girl predicts his action, and catches herself with her feet against the window before pushing forward. The man stumbles forward, growing weak from the lack of air, and the stranger uses her weight to send him to his knees. The arm around his neck quickly lets go before he’s flat against the ground. Her own knee presses into his back as she kneels down on him.

"Here.” The girl tosses Rapunzel a knife from her belt, the weapon still protected in its casing. "Get yourself outta those chains,” she elaborates, a Scottish accent heavy in her voice.

The guy is struggling to catch his breath, his face red and sweating. The girl quickly finds the man’s gun in the grass, then holds it to his scalp. For extra measure, she uses her free hand to twist one of his wrists up between his shoulder blades, and he lets out a cry of pain.

"Now, I know this isn’t any of my business,” the girl begins mildly, as if she were telling the man a secret, "but excuse me for being curious as to why you got a girl all tied up in the middle of the woods?”

The man coughs weakly, barely able to mutter, "It’s called . . . a job.”

She tugs his wrist upward, and something strained sounds from the guy’s throat. "Who’re you working for?” the girl inquires.

Rapunzel focuses, each breath deliberate, her heart still feeling like it could give out any moment despite each beat pounding in her ear. She reaches up and awkwardly unsheathes the knife with both hands, before proceeding to saw away at the chain.

"Get the fuck off me,” the man grunts, attempting to push himself off the ground.

The curly-haired girl knees his body back into the dirt. "Why don’t you try asking  _ nicely _ ?” she teases.

The chain finally breaks, and Rapunzel, now with both hands free, undoes the knot of her gag. When she gets it off, she coughs when the air glides down her incredibly dry throat. The next thing she does is look up and shout, "Look out!”

The girl looks up, aiming the gun at a monster running towards her. She pulls the trigger, but only a muffled sound comes out—the gun jammed. "Shit.” The monster is breaking into the clearing, a few more accompanying it from the sides. With little time to react properly, the redheaded girl pulls the back of the man's shirt, holding him up, and the screaming man becomes a shield as she lets the things grab at him, now distracted with tearing the man apart.

They all pile onto the man, and his screams become gargled. As Rapunzel puts her weight onto her non-injured leg and stands, burning tingles running through her body, she limps around the side mirror to where the girl leaps onto the hood of the car. "Come on, come on!” the girl rushes, her arms looping around the blonde to hoist her up.

She continues to drag Rapunzel up across the windshield and onto the top of the car. A tree stands beside the car, partially hiding it under leaves and low branches. The stranger helps her up, getting her to sit on one of the low enough branches. Rapunzel reaches up to another branch and pulls herself up, with the help of the curly-haired girl, who then hops onto the branches with ease until she’s the same level as the blonde. They’re not extremely high up in the tree, but they’re high enough to idly watch the things trying to claw their way up toward them, scratching at the car. The once freakishly tall man is now silent and unrecognizable.

At first, the two girls don't realize that they're able to relax, fixated on the very animated, decaying bodies as they hunger for two more victims. Then, Rapunzel bluntly leans the side of her head against the tree, her shoulders drooping, and she closes her eyes as the pain of her wound creeps back on her.

She rolls up the ripped remains of her pajama pant leg to inspect the damage. It burns where the skin is torn and where the fabric brushes against it, but it doesn't appear to be as deep as she thought. It starts halfway up her thigh, where there's a recognizable dual crescent shape of a humanoid bite. Then it goes down to her knee, and she can imagine the teeth dragging down, creating the weird zigzag line. There are follow-up scratches along her calf left by sharp nails. The bleeding isn't crazy, so no major arteries were damaged—she would've been dead by now if that were the case—but overall . . .

. . . Guess there's no point in actually  _ tending _ to the wound . . .

The monster-things begin to give up from clawing at the car, and start to merely loiter around the clearing.

". . . She was right,” Rapunzel mumbles to herself. She could almost hear her mother's voice, unwavering in tone, taunting her.  _ Mother knows best _ .

Mother was right.

Her chest convulses with incoming tears. She doesn't want to cry, but she can't quite stop herself. "I should be thanking you,” Rapunzel eventually says, her soft, watery voice weighted with sincerity, and she turns her head to look at the girl seated on the other branch.

The girl looks back at her and winces slightly. Her eyes are the colour of a robin’s eggs, and they look pained under the small, irregular beams of moonlight peeking through the leaves and branches. "No, lass, don't,” she mumbles quietly.

Rapunzel sniffs, pinching her shirt to her stuffy nose. Her voice sounds nasally when she says, "But, you saved me.”

The girl opens her mouth to respond, but doesn't say anything. She swallows, closing her eyes. ". . . How did this happen?” the girl asks instead. Her tone is tame, almost held back.

Rapunzel wipes her eyes, brows furrowed in thought. This is the first moment since she woke up that she's actually thinking about it. "Uh . . .” She breathes heavily, calming down. "One minute I’m in bed, sleeping. The next minute . . . I’m . . . in a truck,” she concludes simply, shoulders raised as if to say,  _ that's it _ . Because that's as far as her memory goes, and her shoulders sag back down in disappointment. She's disappointed with herself. Her mother would be very disappointed in her.

Then, she shakes her head, fixing her posture, suddenly not wanting to think about it. "I’m from the city, Corona,” she says, almost randomly.

The girl seems briefly caught off guard. "Um—are there a lot of people living out there in Corona?”

She tugs a strand of blonde shyly behind her ear. "I don’t really know for sure,” Rapunzel answers slowly, thinking to herself for a moment, then aloud: "I lived in one of the buildings. The monsters don't really travel that high, and I never really went down . . . I lived there with my mother. She would go out and get food and supplies. We were doing good, I think.”

Her voice then lowers to a sad volume, and she grips at that same strand of blonde.

"I always wanted to go out and help her, but she always insisted I stay in the apartment. ‘It’s dangerous out there,’ she would say.” She gingerly touches the knee of her injured leg, the sadness slowly washing over her. Mother told her this would happen. Mother  _ knew _ this would happen. A fresh tear runs down her cheek, her mouth frowning uncontrollably.

". . . She never taught you how to defend yourself?”

Rapunzel wipes at her tears, sniffs, pauses. "What . . . ?”

There's a change in the air surrounding the girl. "You lived in a city full of walkers. I-I get you lived high up, but . . . you can't just . . .” The girl's fingers dig into the crevices in the bark. She seems to pick a piece off when one of her hands flies up, curling into a fist. "Something  _ always _ goes wrong, I'll tell you that right now,” she says sternly, looking the blonde dead in the eye, pointing a finger at her. Her own soft blue eyes are wide, slightly red around the edges, and they burn like a warning. "The place you thought was safe?  _ Isn't _ . No place is ever safe. You got food? Great. Running water? Even better. But there are stupid fucking people out there who will do anything to take what you have.”

Rapunzel imagines her mother, tall and stoic. Her mother doesn't succumb to emotion unless it's rage; unless she has to get it through Rapunzel's thick skull that the world is dark and selfish and cruel (and Rapunzel so desperately wants to believe otherwise). This girl is saying nothing different, but it's not just a warning anymore. It's like watching someone's heart break. It's emotion.

The girl looks away, continuing, "Everything goes to shit . . . and you can't—you can't  _ do _ anything about it because you don't know  _ what _ to do! People  _ fight _ , and  _ die _ , and the place you thought was  _ safe _ —” She cuts herself off, covering her mouth, staring into space like it was happening right in front of her eyes. She covers her eyes. She breathes. "Fuck, I shouldn't be saying this . . .”

It's another long moment of silence that seems to damage Rapunzel's ears the further it extends. She should say something. She wants to say something, so she reaches out her hand to the curly-haired girl.

Said curly-haired girl pauses, unsure, having distanced herself away deliberately out of caution. Both of their hands are dirty, dark under the fingernails. But she feels conscious about the blonde’s blood that stains her fingers. She considers the situation, glancing at her wound, then her green eyes that are light and caring. And she finally decides to reach back. They can barely close the distance. Their fingertips hook slightly together.

"What's your name?” Rapunzel asks.

The girl answers, "It's Merida.”

"Merida, you've made it this far. You need to keep going.”

Rapunzel isn't completely sure where these words are coming from. She can only hope they're from a good place.

"I can only imagine what you've been through. How many people you've lost. I barely even know this world. But in a world so  _ broken _ and  _ unforgiving _ , there's gotta be  _ some kind of light _ ; something to be  _ hopeful _ about.”

(Merida thinks about Hiccup and his grief. They still have each other. But there's a reason she hasn't been locked up in her room like him.)

"You have to fight for that light. You have to keep going.”

Merida is quiet.

(She hasn't heard an inspirational speech like this since she's said goodbye to her mum. Even Aster gave her a speech like this, too, when they had to part ways. He's always been a hopeful one.)

"I'm serious,  _ go _ .” She lets go of Merida’s fingers to shoo her away. "You shouldn't even be near me when I . . .” She trails off, her hand settling near her face against the bark. Her eyes are downcast. Her face is red and puffy from crying. "It's okay,” she reassures, and it's not clear whether it's towards Merida or herself.

Merida looks down as well. "Can I at least know your name, lass?”

The blonde finds it in herself to smile slightly. "Rapunzel.”

Merida grins. "Like the fairytale.”

"My mother loves stories,” Rapunzel mumbles. "When I was a kid, she would read them to me every night. And I loved listening to them.” She's truly content recalling these memories, remembering how attentively she would listen to the fairytales and stories her mother would read from a large, hardcover book. "They just . . . gave me a chance to escape. To pretend I was one of the brave heroes following their dreams, accomplishing the impossible, with the world in their hands . . .

Merida looks away, drumming her fingers along the bark in thought, before looking back up. "I think I’ve got one—a wee story of my own.”

Rapunzel practically gasps, her eyes lighting up like a child as she leans off the tree. "Really?”

Merida pulls one of her legs to her chest, looking through the leaves at the night sky, thinking of her mum. "Let's see . . .”

(She tells a story about an ancient kingdom, its name long forgotten. There was a princess and a queen, and they never quite saw eye to eye. One day, the queen presented the princess with three suitors, one of which will be her partner in marriage. But, oh,  _ no _ , the princess was  _ not _ having that. She didn't want to get  _ married. _ The two of them fought over it, but they both happened to be  _ awful _ listeners.

So, the princess made a deal with a witch. The witch gave her a spell, promising to change her mother’s mind. But instead of changing her mind, it changed her into a  _ bear _ !

The princess and her mother set off on an adventure to find the witch. But, the witch had vanished, and was nowhere to be found. Once the sun rises, the spell is permanent. There’d be no changing her mother back. But when the sun finally rose, the morning settling upon them, the princess would come to find that—)

When Merida looks up, Rapunzel is fast asleep.

/

Merida gets up to leave. She can't afford the risk of sleeping next to someone who's going to turn, nor can she afford the emotional attachment. Besides, she told Hiccup she'd be back by nightfall. She wouldn't want to freak him out.

. . .

She should be leaving, but she's just  _ standing _ on the branch, hesitating. This isn't the first time Merida has left someone knowing their fate. But . . .

. . .

Rapunzel had been such a kind soul . . . She doesn't want that soul to depart alone.

. . .

Merida stays.


End file.
